


Beetlejuice 2 : the sequel we deserve

by vermicious_knid



Category: Beetlejuice (1988)
Genre: Basically, F/M, GOLD BABY, I AM DOING YOUR WORK FOR YOU, I CAN WRITE THE SCRIPT JUST GIMME THE WEEKEND, Sexual Tension, THIS IS EASY, here is mine, my headcanon, see Tim?, since there's not gonna be a sequel, they def banged at some point in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18421221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermicious_knid/pseuds/vermicious_knid
Summary: Some thing just won't stay buried (or unpossessed).





	1. Chapter 1

If there was one thing Lydia knew for certain, it was that life is not always as it may appear. Just like a door might lead to unseen places, and how nothing looks the same under the light of the moon. It was what made her such a good photographer in the first place, after all.

 

Adding to that knowledge, she was also used to the unexpected.

 

Should a spider land on her shoulder, she would not even glance up from her morning paper, and place it gently on the saucer of her cup.

 

Lightning could flash across the sky, and she’d just close her eyes – better to hear the rumbling that came right after.

 

Even after leaving school and its stereotypical bullies behind, Lydia remained – as she herself said ”strange and unusual”, only without the air of someone in constant mourning. But her eyes were still as dark, her manners quiet and enigmatic enough to attract the attention of several boys in college – but few of them lasted long, too unnerved in her presence for reasons they had a hard time explaining. She attracted black cats who sometimes followed her home, and maybe it wasn’t uncommon for her to talk to ghosts in the graveyard close to her house.

 

It was not that she seeked them out herself – it was just like with that tall white house on the hill. She just stumbled upon these things, lost souls asking for direction, disembodied voices in the library discussing Keats. And really, ghosts are just people. They just want someone to notice them.

 

Her work was highly admired, and there was always a spot cleared for her at the Guggenheim. And even though it was not her favorite thing to do, her agent made her go to galas, events for the rich and famous.

 

Mostly she just went so she could take unassuming (but hilarious) photos of feet and creased foreheads.

 

* * *

 

So, even though Lydia was used to most things happening, she had not expected this.

 

It had been a regular Wednesday evening, not a friday even though it was the thirteenth. She had just made dinner for herself when she heard the front door open and shut with a bang, and she rolled her eyes. She had given a pair of keys to her younger cousin, who was, much to his own parents dismay, very much like Lydia herself in a lot of ways.

 

He had grown a habit of coming and going to escape thereal lunatics, and at 17 he was always either hungry or hungry.

 

She called out into the hall as she checked on the pasta.

 

”Vincent? Are you staying for dinner? And also, while you’re at it, remember not to slam the-”

 

”Cuz! I kind of need your help!” he yelled back, unhelpfully. She abandoned the pot and stalked out into the hallway, cutting words buzzing on her tongue.

 

”What did you do now? And before you say anything, no you cannot borrow the laika because-”

 

It was a good thing she was not holding anything in her hands, because if she had, she would certainly had dropped it at the sight that met her at the door. Her lips parted and her eyes widened.

 

There he stood, disheveled and ghoulish and not trapped in the netherworld. Mold growing on his face still. Pinstripe suit and dark bruises around his eyes, just like the last time she had seen him. She half-expected to hear something akin to doom trumpets, wails of the unfortunate, crazy circus music along with his presence. But it was already there, dancing in his eyes as he looked at her.

 

And yet, he said nothing.

 

But something other than fear and shock made her look away from him, made her focus entirely on Vincent beside him who seemed calm in the face of someone so chaotic.

 

”Why is _he_ here?” she hissed, a mixture of fear and annoyance in her voice.

 

”I called on him after finding that book you mentioned once. ”

 

” _What!?”_

 

Quickly, swallowing nervously, he explained that some friends of his were in big trouble. Lydia glanced over at Beetlejuice warily.

 

”What sort of trouble?”

 

* * *

 

Apparently some classmates had somehow managed to summon a very dangerous demon during a birthday party earlier that day. And now, Vincent’s girlfriend had been turned into the demons literal puppet, his classmates had been swallowed by a big black cloud inside the house where the party had been held. 

 

And the demon had made sure that nobody could come in our out. After hearing his explanation, Lydia groaned and closed her eyes momentarily, as if that would make everything go away.

 

”This is a bad idea.” she muttered.

 

But Vincent was, more than anything, persistent.

 

”He promised to help if you gave him something first.”

 

”My ring.” a low rumble. She had to open her eyes and look at him. He was, she considered, unusually serious.   


”What?”

 

Beetlejuice crossed his arms, polished the dark, filthy nails against his sleeve and stared at them with feigned disinterest.

 

”You have it. I want it back – wasn’t cheap, I tell ya.”

 

The ring. She hadn’t looked at it for a couple of years now, still tucked in a drawer. But that wasn’t what made her so angry.

 

”Thats all you want? A stupid ring?” she asked, fear gone, voice raised.

 

She forgot how quick he was. In a flash he had come to stand much closer, his teeth bared like a rabid dog.

 

”If it is so stupid, then why do you still have it?” he hissed, craning his neck in a way not humanly possible.

 

Meanwhile, Vincent was starting to look more and more uncomfortable by the door.

 

”Hey uhm, don’t fight guys! If it’s just a ring...”

 

Lydia took a deep breath and without pause, looked right into his eyes, looking past Beetlejuice completely.

 

”Yeah. It is. I’ll go get it.”

 

And while she turned her back on both of them, she could feel one pair of eyes burning a hole in the back of her head.

 

* * *

 

 

Vincent reflected on how this must be the strangest day of his life so far.

 

First Victoria was captured by a very real demon and turned into a very creepy version of herself that did not like flowers or anything sweet. Then he’d seen an advert in that strange book for the recently deceased, and somehow summoned another demon (or what must be at least a dead guy). He was dressed like a hokey salesman, and he had a hard time believing anything he said.

 

But this one had a perchance for eating bugs rather than girlfriends.

 

Then, he had delivered an impromptu speech using a lot of blows and whistles on how he was the greatest bio-exorcist known to the undead. Beetlejuice put an arm around him, patted him down like a security guard at an airport. Meanwhile he kept asking questions at an infuriating pace in a voice that was like an old creaky door.

 

”So what’s the deal here, what do you need help with, you look like a spring chicken to me – carefree, young, all your undead life ahead of you, air full of gasoline and promises!”

 

Vincent ducked away from his arm, trying to maintain as much space between him and this lunatic as possible. There was also the unmistakable smell – like an overflowing dumpster in the heat of summer.

 

”Actually, uh – I have a problem with a demon. He kind of stole my girlfriend and her house...” At this, Beetlejuice shook his head and leered at him.

 

”Now that’s what I call a fair deal son, nothing I can do about that, if the missus jumps ship, that’s a no can do-”

 

”Hey! ”

 

”Okay, whoops what a delicate little man! Sorry about that, I’m sure she loves what you can give her, I’m sure she’s a faithful lady-”

 

Vincent usually didn’t have much of a temper, but this guy was pushing buttons he didn’t even knew he had.

 

”I am alive and so is she, and this demon has _kidnapped_ her!”

 

Beetlejuice walked lazy circles around him, completely oblivious to the young man’s distress. Then he smacked his hands together, rubbing them in a way that could not bode well. Then when he spoke next, his voice was inexplicably smoother, and louder.

 

”Oh right, gotcha. I see – and you want me to take care of this _little_ problem of yours. Well not much I can do ABOUT _THAT_ BUT – I can get her untangled and her shack in shipshape if you have something for me, you know, a present, a gift of some kind...”

 

”I don’t have money, but I think my cousin-”

 

”Your cousin? ”

 

”Yeah, Lydia. She’s been in touch with the dead before – maybe if we went to her house we could-”

 

At hearing his cousins name, Beetlejuice suddenly stopped in his tracks. There was a pause – not unlike the quiet moments right before a thunderclap. His leery smile froze on his face, his eyes dark and unreadable. Beetlejuice inclined his head to one side, stared with restless fixation at a spot on the floor. It was the first time Vincent had actually seen the man stand still.

 

”Deetz?” he asked voice suddenly like gravel, and Vincent blinked in surprise.

 

”Yes, but how did you know that?”

 

There was another pause, shorter this time, before he suddenly resumed acting like a tornado, as if someone had just temporarily pulled the plug. Beetlejuice grinned wickedly, an all too sharp twinkle in his eyes as he turned to Vincent, snapping his fingers.

 

”Oh her and I go way back. I think we can settle this deal very nicely, you're going to be real pleased I’m sure!”

* * *

 

 

At first he had feared that this strange creature was set out to hurt his cousin in some way, by the way he had acted. But the moment they came upon her house and she stepped into the hallway, it was like the Beetlejuice Vincent had seen thus far was interchanged by something different.

 

And the look he gave Lydia upon first seeing her sure had him wondering. It was not a look Vincent would expect him to be capable of at all. The same was true for Lydia herself – and it was obvious that she recognized him, knew him, in some way.

 

This was not the cartoony salesman from earlier, the one who spoke rapid-fire sentences and liked to teleport mid-conversation. There was a contained energy about him here, but just barely so. 

 

Their words were all venom, all bite. And yet, there was another conversation going if you looked into their eyes, one that had nothing to do with rings. Vincent sensed that, if he hadn't been in the room, other things would have been said.

 

Shortly after Lydia had disappeared upstairs to look for said ring, Vincent followed her. He found her in her bedroom, but he did not enter, instead stood and waited in the doorway. Just like the rest of her house, the colors on the walls were shades of purple or blue. A queen-size bed and a drawer with black elongated legs – a gift from Delia.

 

”Lydia, can I ask what-”

 

But she only raised a pale hand sharply, as if smacking the question away.

 

”No. Not now.”

 

* * *

 

The ring was handed over with little fuss. And at first, she thought that would be the end of it.

 

Boy, was she wrong.

 

”Y’know, I gotta tell ya, to really do this job justice I’m gonna need some special equipment – the real exterminator tools. Where do I have them, hmm...oh that’s right, they’re not here.”

 

”Then where are they _Beetlejuice_?” Lydia asked, all acid – and the man in question squinted and hissed, recoiling from her momentarily like a cockroach under bright lights.

 

”Ooohhh why you gotta do me wrong? ” he groaned, but he was putting on an act again. Then he rubbed his hands together like a supervillain. ”They’re back at my place, need to go fetch them before we can get anything properly incinerated.”

 

Lydia shrugged cooly.

 

”So go fetch them.”

 

Beetlejuice rolled his shoulders back and raised his hands as if to perform a magic trick – but stopped.

 

”Y’a see I can’t – well not without one of you coming with me. It’s a whole passport thing, looks better on paper if I don't travel alone these days….”

 

Lydia turned to Vincent with a sigh.

 

”It’s just a trick, don’t listen to him.”

 

Vincent was quiet for a beat, staring at them both. Then, he nodded to himself.

 

”So we’ll both go. Right? ”

 

And to Lydia, that actually sounded like a better idea – even if she really didn’t want to do it. But it was evidently not one that Beetlejuice agreed with.

 

”Uh, that’s not what I had in mind...” But Lydia did not let him finish.

 

”It’s that or no deal at all.”She said, arms crossed over her chest. He still had something up his sleeve, she knew. He always did.

 

* * *

 

It was not like the Maitlands had described it. But they were there for such a short time, that they never got to see the whole picture.

 

It was not a world of blues and gauzy green, like they had said.

 

Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, and they were suddenly standing in a street seemingly borrowed straight out of Twilight zone. The sky was like the setting sun, a deep orange shade. People passed in the street – but they were impossibly stretched, mangled or corpses fresh from the morgue, dressed in nothing but a black sack. Some did not even look like they had ever been living on earth, simply odd creatures that slithered or crawled – wide smiles etched on their faces. They came in every color, shape and size.

 

Vincent jumped a mile at the sight, frightened out of his mind as he hid behind his cousin.

 

But Lydia looked on it all with awe.

 

Her fingers itched for a camera, seeing a thousand possibilities – thousands of interesting subjects, colors, details. A dead go-go dancer, clad in a sequin bathing suit standing side by side with a skeleton who had taken off his head to quote Shakespeare.

 

The dead themselves paid them little attention, and merely grumbled or grunted at the sight of them. She almost stepped on a lizard with a neck that looked severely broken. It glared up at her, and raised a tiny green fist.

 

”Watch where ya goin! Pff, tourists...”

 

Further down the street, a (ironically) lively street band was performing a familiar song that couldn’t just be coincidence. She looked around for Beetlejuice, but could not see him in the crowd. Then, as eerily as smoke, he appeared at her shoulder.

 

He was too close really, his voice loud as it whispered in her ear. His eyes had started to glow like something nuclear, like someone was shining ultraviolet light into his face. And even though Lydia should feel nothing but fear, that is not what she felt.

 

”Still want in?”

 

And for a moment, just a moment –

 

But then her face hardened, and his eyes twinkled menacingly – challenged, excited by her anger, her display of any emotion at all.

 

”Lets get what we came here for.” she muttered.

 

But of course, it wasn’t just that easy. Beetlejuice started strolling easily down the street, and they hurried to catch up to him.

 

”Have to pick somethin up for a friend first – you know how it is.” he said, shrugging.

 

”Beet-” Lydia began, but found her lips temporarily missing. Beetlejuice whistled innocently.

 

”Now don’t go around saying my name like that. Same rules down here as it is up there.”

 

Her mouth reappeared, and she opened it to snarl. She stomped up to him and blocked his path, flicking a finger against his forehead.

 

”Fuck the rules. If you don’t help my cousin I will personally make sure that you-” but he stepped into her personal space, his own mouth twisting into a snarl.

 

”That I what, babe? You forget, I’m already dead. ”

 

At that, she glowered at him so intensely that Vincent had to step between them, lest they should start another massive argument.

 

”Geez, if I didn’t know any better I’d say that you argue like an old married couple...” he said, looking at the two of them. Lydia’s eyes widened and Beetlejuice wheezed out a disturbing laugh that lasted for a little too long.

 

”Funny you should put it that way, because-” but before he could finish, Lydia cut in, an unnerved expression on her face to say the least.

 

”LETS go see this friend of yours.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

The nightclub was loud, big and crowded with all sorts of creatures, the undead and bugs that dealt poker in a quiet corner. Colors flashed on the walls, reminding her of the insides of a funhouse. Beetlejuice entered like he’d been there thousands of times. The bugs scattered soon after he’d made his entrance, but not before he snatched one up that had tried to ecape.

 

It squeaked once in protest before he crushed it in his hand and swallowed what was left of it.

 

A waitress wandered up to Lydia and Vincent, her eyes gone from her sockets. Her skin was bluish, and there was a large piece of metal embedded in her throat.

 

”Do you have a reservation?” she asked tiredly. A little bit of green ooze dripped from the gash, and landed on the floor.

 

They quickly edged past her, and sat down by the bar instead.

 

Meanwhile, Beetlejuice had all but disappeared in the crowd – again.

 

”Just great.” Lydia muttered, and decided that a bar was a bar, after all and lord knows she needed a drink.

 

She was served what might have been wine, but the liquid was thicker than that, but to her immense relief it wasn’t blood – and it tasted bizarrely like cherries in brandy.

 

And she found that it was about twice as strong as brandy. It burned down her throat, but left her with a warm feeling that was not wholly unpleasant.

 

Vincent’s drink however was black as coal and bubbled continuously like a witches cauldron. He eyed it warily, like the contents might jump up and bite him any second.

 

The sound of a fast-paced, strumming guitar over the dim of growls, loud voices and drunk laughter suddenly reached Lydia’s ears, and she turned around in her seat to see where the music came from. She didn’t know how she’d missed it, but there was a small stage in the middle of the room, lit up by blood-red stage lights. A man sat there in a dark navy suit that looked like he might have drowned recently, seaweed clinging to his clothes and his hair wet. He was missing an arm, but playing the guitar, his detached arm taped to the guitar itself, the fingers moving over the strings expertly.

 

As the minutes passed, the crowd began to get quieter and quieter as he played, as if they were all waiting for something.

 

Then, from behind a tattered curtain, a beautiful woman appeared and took to the stage. Or rather – she was half-woman, half-snake. Her lower body slithering across the floor gracefully, her body covered in red scales. Her human looking hands grabbed the microphone, and after flipping sleek blue hair across her shoulder, she began to sing.

 

_I like a tombstone cause it_

_Weathers well_

_And if it stands or if it crumbles only_

_Time will tell_

_And you can carve my name in marble_

_You must cut it deep_

_There'll be no dancing on the gravestone_

_You must let me sleep_

_And time is burning, burning, burning_

_Till it burns away_

 

And Lydia had to admit, she was a good singer. And just like the rest of the crowd, she clapped when the song was over. She cast a look behind her at Vincent, and noticed with some alarm that he had actually downed half of his drink, and by the looks of things it seemed like the contents were not agreeing with his stomach.

 

He covered his mouth with his hand, and before she could ask, he ran to (presumably) the bathroom. Lydia stared after him, and that was when Beetlejuice decided to reappear out of thin air.

 

”it’s a gag. They do it with every tourist that comes by this place.”

 

He was leaning against one of the pillars closest to her, for once not looking at her, but smirking in the direction that Vincent had run off to.

 

”Beg your pardon?” Lydia asked, raising her eyebrows. Beetlejuice leaned over and did that ”just between you and me” gesture that only cheap car salesmen ever did.

 

”You actually think they serve that on the regular? It’s just sludge scraped off from the drainpipe. I mean, not the worst I’ve tasted, but for a boy like your Vincent...”

 

He stopped talking when he saw the accusatory glare she gave him in return.

 

”--Eh, I’m sure he’ll take it just fine.”

 

But Lydia glared at him just the same, until she heard more clapping as another band took to the stage. Curious despite herself, she turned around to look who would play next. This time it was the same band she had seen earlier in the street outside – a gang of skeletons, some of them with painted on mustaches or colorful symbols on their bones.

 

But this time the instruments were slightly different, more modern. One of the skeletons settled in front of a synth. They seemed very much in tune with each other, only nodding occasionally to each other before starting with their first song.

 

_I met a girl who could tell me anything_

_I don't know how but I felt like she was mine_

 

Something that sounded awfully alot like an 80s pop ballad began playing.

 

She didn’t know how – since there were no light fixtures in the room at all, but the light changed from blood-red to something more colorful along the walls. A discarded and broken disco ball in the ceiling started to rotate, and it was all she could do not to start laughing. This was the land of the dead? Disco-balls and cherries in brandy?

 

The whole situation was, in retrospect, quite absurd.

 

Beetlejuice must have caught the amused look on her face, because he shuffled his shoes and looked down at the floor – looking both immensely pleased and embarrassed at the same time. And slowly but surely, people began getting up from their seats to dance to the music.

Vincent wasn’t back from the bathroom yet.

 

Suddenly and inexplicably, Lydia was reminded of her high school prom, and how similarly the night had went. Her date Billy had gotten a stomach ache from the cheese being served, leaving her on the side of the dance floor with nothing but an empty cup and his black converse trainers.

 

She had been so caught up in this memory that she had failed to notice that Beetlejuice was suddenly blocking her view of the stage. And maybe it was the music, or the fact that he had begun to twist a lock of her dark hair around his fingers, but suddenly they had, in tandem, moved towards the dancing crowd.

 

They were not dancing as fast or chaotic as the others, and to Lydia it felt like the room was spinning, and they were the only ones standing still. Maybe that was just another one of his tricks.

 

But she knew that was not all that it was.

 

”You expected worse.” he said suddenly, and it took her a moment to realize that he was speaking about the netherworld. But she didn’t let him know that.

  
”From you? Always.”

 

He frowned sharply spun her around, bringing her back so that she was closer to him than before. There was a hungry, frustrated expression on his face then. His hand on her hip was squeezing, reminding her of a time five years ago when something had happened, and they had both found themselves at the same place, at the same funeral parlor. And then, a handful of other times that year -

 

_Don’t go there._

 

But their gazes met, and it was hard to look away. She averted her gaze to his shoulder, and made sure to keep it there.

 

”What are you going to do with the ring?” she asked, licking her lips.

 

”Sell it, maybe. Will fetch a good price, given the right, gullible person...”

 

While his words were cutting and mean, she could feel his breath on her exposed neck – the hand on her hip tugging her closer.

 

She tried to wrestle herself free of his hold on her, because she was not going down this road again. He did not let her go, and there was no point fighting against a poltergeist. She huffed in annoyance, while he only looked at her lazily. _What was he playing at?_

 

_And why did she suddenly feel like she wanted to cry?_

 

”Do whatever you want. But I can’t...I can’t do this again.” She uttered, gripping his sleeves like her life depended on it.

 

”Lydia. Look at me.”

 

Small, almost invisible tears had fallen over her cheeks. But he saw them, his eyes focusing on them like it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Then slowly, he gripped both sides of her face with his rough hands and, with an intense look of concentration, he leaned his face close to her cheek, turning her head slightly in his hands.

 

He opened his mouth, and it was unclear if he was going to lick her face, take a bite out of it or both. His teeth bared, and he made an almost animalistic sound in the back of his throat- but then the strange sound turned into a whisper.

 

”Want to know a secret, Lydia? ”

 

Lydia's eyes were still full of tears, but she wanted to know what he had to say – his presence both soothing and a torment all at once.

 

”It’s _you_. The secret has always been _you_. ” he whispers, and his voice sounds tortured and angry, like the words have taken an immense struggle to say.

 

She doesn’t – she can’t-

 

Lydia steps back from him like his touch burns her skin. She watches him strangely because-

 

_Because it can’t be true. Because it is too late._

 

Victor shows up just in time to see Lydia looking conflicted, wiping a stray tear from her cheek in an angry gesture and he stops her with a hand on her arm.

 

”Hey, is everything okay?”

 

She looks at him for a long moment, and he can’t remember ever seeing a look like that on her face. Because the Lydia he knows is never unsure of anything, and always has a ready answer.

 

But then she shrugs, and wipes a hand over her face as if to clear her mind.

 

”You’re lucky I like Victoria almost as much as you.” she mutters, and then with a turn of her head towards the dance floor – where Beetlejuice is standing, looking more like a creature of the night and something to be feared than ever before. His eyes reflect here, in the Netherworld. Victor finds it eerie to be stared at with those eyes.

 

”B! Let’s get out of here. Don’t forget your promise.” Lydia hollers before she takes the dregs left of Vincent’s drink and swallows it without a second thought.

 

* * *

 

The place that Beetlejuice lived in was hidden – just outside the Netherworld metropolis, in deep, muddy forests. He did not live in a house or cabin – but in an abandoned hole in the earth. Tunnels that twisted their way into every direction. At their questioning gaze, Beetlejuice simply shrugged.

 

”Sandworms. Hate ém, but they sure know how to live.”

 

He jumped down into the dark tunnel without a second thought, leaving Lydia and Vincent to stare after him, not hearing his body hit the bottom. Vincent swallowed loudly, his pupils mere pinpricks.

 

”Uh, you first?” he asked, smiling sheepishly.

 

Needless to say, she pushed him into the hole before she followed close behind – his high-pitched shriek echoing all around her.

 

It was not like falling down the rabbit hole, and she was definitely not Alice. Instead, she found that the fall was much shorter than she expected. They re-emerged in a large cavern, where the ceiling was nothing but sharp rocks and twisting roots – thankfully, the ground was only the soft earth.

 

What appeared to be the exact half of a large pirate ship (as if someone had cut it down the middle) Rested against a rock-formation in the middle of the large cave. And even though it was very dark, the cave was lit by candles stuck into makeshift holders – several empty wine bottles, a mannequin’s head, an empty can of beef stew or just simply left to melt into the surface of an old briefcase, on an upturned painting smashed against the floor.

 

In the distance, she could hear him humming under his breath.

* * *

 

 

His abode was filthy, no surprise there. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust or grime. Upon closer inspection, Lydia realized that the pirate ship was full of odd knick-knacks – no gold or jewels, but old clothing – from centuries ago to more modern things, a discarded ”I love new york” t-shirt had been draped over the back of a stuffed alligator. A drawer full of nothing but watches – all different kinds.

 

A huge carnivorious plant that looked a little too real to go near.

 

A big pile of things that looked like stuff you’d see at a junkyard, but she realized that no, these were more likely stolen.

  
There were even a few arcade games in one corner, a mechanical fortune teller that laughed mechanically, eyes lit up with yellow light.

 

There was also (though she did not go near it) what passed for a bedroom – red drapes and beyond it a bed that looked (surprisingly) clean, made neatly.

 

Outside the ship, there was a lonely television set from the 60’s, and a single lawn chair with a broken seat.

 

While Vincent was both aghast at the dirt and the fact that he lived in a hole in the ground, Lydia couldn’t help but stare at the broken chair.

 

_It looks lonely._

 

”Lemme see, gotta be here somewhere...” Beetlejuice muttered to himself, rummaging around in one of the piles of random things that appeared useless to anyone but his eyes. Finally he stopped, and raised a rubber duck triumphantly to the skies.

 

”How is that going to help?” Vincent asked, and tried not to step on another cockroach.

  
Beetlejuice appeared in front of him and squeezed his cheeks in an almost violent fashion.

 

”You are in for a big surprise, sport. Just wait and see, you’re gonna love it!”

 

He transported them back to the land of the living, and it was jarring to be met by bright blue skies and normal, plain looking grass.

 

Lydia realized that he had taken them straight to Victoria’s house. The skies around it though looked troubled, and wind blew fiercely around it – like it was trapped in its own tornado. Darkness hovered above, and there was a constant, low moan coming from it – like it was alive.

 

But Beetlejuice just looked wryly amused at the scene.

 

Then he raised the duck in his hand and – squeezed it. It gave off a pathetic, anticlimactic sound

 

”Hey Jimbo! Look what I here got -your favorite toy remember? You thought you lost it but -” here he stopped and broke out into helpless, wheezing giggles, ” I just stole it. ”

 

Suddenly the house roared.

 

Beetlejuice turned his head back to both of them and quickly stage-whispered ”I knew him back in college.”

 

”Now, seeing as I know you loved it so much – how about we make a trade? C’mon, you’re getting the better deal here. I get a lousy house and a prude, you get your most prized possession. I’ll even throw in the free balloons if ya want em.” and to finish off, Beetlejuice squeezed the toy once more.

 

The whole house started shaking, and for a moment it looked as if it was going to come apart completely. But instead, the front door slammed open to reveal Victoria – or her possessed body, that is.

 

She floated towards them slowly, still wearing the white dress from the party earlier, the ends of it blowing in the wind. Her eyes had gone completely white, and black gunk fell out of her mouth when she opened it to speak. Short blonde hair billowed around her face.

 

”Asshole.” The demonic voice uttered – which was...no, it was not unexpected at all.

 

Beetlejuice merely grinned and threw the duck at her – which she caught without looking.

 

”Been called worse things in my time.”

 

The demon/Victoria turned the duck over in her hands, sighing in a way that was dark and very perverse.

 

”The trade you purpose is worthwhile, and I will leave this body and this house. But in addition, we want something else - something that has been considered precious to you for a long time.”

 

”And what’s that?” Beetlejuice asked, hands in his pockets, leaning forward as if he expected to hear a dirty joke.

 

The demon raised its blind gaze, one hand raising slowly to point a crooked finger.

 

”Her.”

 

* * *

 

”Come again?” Beetlejuice is frozen on the spot, a grin still on his face. But the demon is smiling too – a different smile altogether.

 

”Lydia Deetz. Her name, you’ve tasted it – haven’t you? ”

 

The atmosphere changes quickly. A bright bolt of lightening chooses to strike down a tree just a few feet away from them, and Beetlejuice’s eyes are hard and dangerous. But there is still a grin on his face – a diabolical one.

 

”You don’t know what you’re asking Jimmy boy.” he growls.

 

”Ask? No, it was more of a _demand._ ”

 

Dead branches from the fallen tree slither over to Lydia, forming into a giant hand that tries to grab her. She manages to dart away from it in time and it misses, its closed fist only hitting the ground. But it doesn’t get another chance, because the moment it tries to move closer to her again, the whole hand erupts into vivid flames – burned to cinders in just seconds.

 

Beetlejuice’s hair has taken on an even more wild appearance than normal – and his eyes glow a vivid yellow. His whole body is rigid, and he is watching the demon like a spider, all animal instinct.

 

”I don’t like the way you play, Jimmy. You were never like this at the frat parties.”

 

”Give me the girl and we have a deal.”

 

Victorias house has started to spin like it’s stuck in a tornado. The demon seems to change in appearance too, Victorias body now more of a demon – a long bird-like snout with sharp teeth, the bones of her back sticking out like they might come apart.

 

The demon is more powerful than any of them realized.

 

But Beetlejuice just looks...elated. Excited beyond belief.

 

”You wanna play? Lets!” he roars, clapping his hands twice and out from under them all, the ground moves and shifts and suddenly, they are standing in a very familiar graveyard. Large, fake plastic trees and cardboard headstones surround them.

 

_We’re in the fucking model._

 

Grabbing Vincent’s hand, Lydia quickly drags him to hide behind a nearby tomb.

 

”What is this?” the demon growls.

 

”Oh, just a little place I call home -step right up, come and enjoy the veal! But look, what do we have here?”

 

Suddenly Beetlejuice grabs her from behind the tomb and pulls her to his side, shaking her slightly. And just like that, she is wearing _the dress._

 

The red wedding dress – but without the veil, her hair untouched. She touches the fabric and looks up at him with wide eyes. He gestures to her like she’s a sidekick at a magician’s performance, bowing slightly before he turns to ”Jimmy” and whispers loudly. He seems to be unaware of the implications of their little charade.

 

_Or is he?_

 

”She’s here too, which makes all the difference – doesn’t it? Do you know, we were almost married once – and I think she might have said yes if it weren’t for the ol’ folks and two pesky ghosts filling her head with _ideas_ and _morals_

_And_ _The Watergate scandal was more interesting, if you ask me but-”_

 

He claps his hands abruptly, and suddenly there is foreboding music playing in the distance.

 

”We’re not here to talk about her, we’re here to see to talk about _you!_ Look, did you know that they give away free ducks at the fair? Be honest.”

 

At this, ”Jimmy” looks surprised and….genuinely delighted. It turns its head and looks around frantically, searching.

 

”The fair? Where?”

 

Beetlejuice’s voice came from a completely different place in the graveyard, and when the demon turned to look, there was indeed a small fairground – tiny in fact, with only a single cotton candy machine and one game-stand in the shape of a yellow plastic duck, a single black tear on its pale cheek. And around this stand, a tiny railroad went round and round in circles, with trains shaped (again) like ducks that squaked and bobbed back and forth.

 

Beetlejuice himself was now wearing a black top-hat, and pointing a long stick at a sign right next to him that said FREE! FREE! FREE! He made wide gestures as if he was talking to a large audience.

 

”Well right here of course! Step on up, claim your price – it’s free, its totally and completely without monetary gain, no sir no money allowed up here mister! Yes, check yourself before you wreck yourself!”

 

The demon made a strange, whale-like noise and approached the little fairground, arms reaching out with blind hope.

 

Meanwhile Lydia tore off the top-most layer of red frill of the dress to escape some of it, revealing a darker shade underneath – more scarlet and less garish. It made it easier to move around in too.

 

Beetlejuice was starting to talk faster and faster – a sign that whatever plan he had was going according to plan.

 

”Yes step right up and receive the grand prize! The hollapoloza! The jackpot! Here you go sir, choose any duck – how many ducks – your choice! They blink, they wink, they talk! No receipts and no refunds now, gotta move on, I’m a simple busy man and I’m even letting you win – how about that!” Beetlejuice’s eyes swirled in black and white.

 

Victoria/Jimmy stepped up to the stand and carefully picked up a medium-sized duck with a blue bow-tie around its neck.

 

”Ah good choice there big fella, good choice! Notice the stripes on its legs? You don’t see many ducks with stripes on the legs now do ya? A rare find!”

 

Jimmy turned it around in his gnarled hands and made a strange, cooing sound.

 

Lydia paled suddenly, and began to realize what Beetlejuice had up his sleeve. She took a few steps back, and hid behind one of the gnarled plastic trees.

 

And sure enough, a few seconds after the demon had been holding the striped duck, it began to wiggle strangely in its hands – as if there was something inside that desperately wanted out. Cracks began to appear along its yellow surface, and with a surprised roar, Jimmy dropped the duck.

 

The moment it hit the ground, the duck started tearing apart – revealing a huge cloud of purple smoke that oozed out of it.

 

But that was not all that came out.

 

When the whole surrounding area succumbed to the smoke, another, much deeper roar could be heard throughout the graveyard. The ground began to shake and rumble, and without warning, a huge sandworm burst through the plastic grass and cardboard dirt – it fixed its yellow, snake-like gaze at Jimmy immediately.

 

Jimmy screeched and then Victoria’s form slumped to the ground, her frame returning to its normal proportions.

 

The demon now lacked a human body – ghostly limbs hanging in the hair. It looked like a blue, mutated evil smurf. It currently sported an expression of pure terror in the face of the sandworm, which wasted no time in chasing the demon around the graveyard, wreaking havoc wherever it went.

 

Vincent, in an act of unusual bravery, made to grab Victoria from the ground the minute the sandworm turned away as Lydia kept an eye on him from behind the tree.

 

But then something prickled at the back of her neck, and she turned around just in time to see the sandworm swallow Jimmy the demon whole. It was over quickly, but the sandworm was still present.

 

Its lizard eyes turned quickly and saw her by the tree, and she drew in a frightened breath. But curiously, it ignored her and its gaze locked on someone else.

 

_Oh no._

 

Beetlejuice was standing over Vincent who was cradling a still unconscious Victoria in his arms. He was preening in the face of his supposed victory.

 

Completely unaware that there is a sandworm heading in his direction.

 

”She’ll be fine lad. Being possessed is a hassle, but as long as you’re young and nimble...”

 

”B! Look out!” she yells.

 

But this is one instance where he doesn’t seem to hear her – at least not fast enough, and she realizes with a sick feeling what is about to happen. He might not come back, this time – in this world or the next.

 

And Lydia -

 

She can’t deny her heart. Even if he leaves again – even if he repeats what he said five years ago, the thing that drove them apart these last five years-

 

” _I don’t need anyone, least of all you.”_

 

\- and what she is about to do might even kill her, but she loves him.

 

And how many people (undead or otherwise) has she cared for as much?

 

With that in mind, she starts running. And when she reaches him and pushes him out of the way, the sandworms sharp teeth snag on her leg and hip, then finally sink all the way into her flesh.

 

* * *

 

It all happens in slow-motion, it seems.

 

Not the fall to the ground, the blood oozing out of her body. That happens quickly.

 

It hurts so much that she can't even draw breath to scream. She watches him in front of her, the disgruntled expression at being pushed changes quickly to one of confusion – then to an expression that she has never seen on his face.

 

His eyes widen, and it looks like he is breathing fast – like someone having a panic attack. He takes a hesitant step towards her – the distant roar of the sandworm approaching again, but he just waves a hand in its direction – the sound and smell of something burning, a loud animal squeak and then – nothing.

 

His eyes never leave her form. But he does not make any advances to touch her. She does feel someone lifting her head, someone yelling for help. Vincent?

 

But she is suddenly so tired – and the pain so overwhelming that she closes her eyes and does not open them for a very long time.

 

* * *

 

When she awakens, she feels at once that they are someplace else. The air smells like dirt and old parchment.

 

She doesn’t open her eyes fully – still tired, but manages to turn her head to the left to see that she is in a familiar place. She is inside the wreckage of the pirate ship – lying on a (surprisingly) soft bed. The whole place is lit up by candles, casting a shadowy light.

 

Then she manages to focus on another familiar face.

 

His face is shadowed too, the darkness around his eyes even more prominent. Beetlejuice is standing over her by the bed, hands pressing over her wounds – his lips move, but no sound comes out of them. His hands are caked with blood – hers.

 

His hands are shaking.

 

At the moment, he is not the comical and deranged poltergeist. In fact, Lydia isn’t even sure what he is.

 

But she does know two things – that she is not afraid of him, or of the warmth that keeps spreading through her body, the pain slowly ebbing away.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up the second time, she does so fully – sitting upright at once.

 

She looks down at where the sandworm bit her, lifts her shirt to check. But there is nothing but creamy, pale flesh – and three small, jagged scars. But otherwise she is completely healed.

 

A bit ironic – a red wedding dress covered in blood. She decides to take it off then and there, and puts on a tattered robe hanging on the edge of the metal frame of his bed.

 

When she finds him, he is sitting in the lawn chair in the darkness, the cave around them completely silent. His back is bent and his head is in his hands – his face shrouded in darkness. If he were alive, she would hear his breathing – but as it is she just hears her own.

 

She approaches him carefully, and then kneels beside the chair.

 

He looks unkempt and ragged – more so than usual. His striped suit is splattered with blood (hers, she assumes) And his hands -

 

they look like they have been burned severely. Without hesitating, she grabs and gently lowers them from his face so she can get a better look.

 

”What is this?” she asks, inspecting the wounds. It looks incredibly painful. She thinks he might recoil or hiss at her touch, but he remains still – watchful of her. His expression is both sinister and infinitely tender at once, an odd combination

 

”It wasn’t easy to stop the bleeding. I had to dig deep.”

 

”Thank you. If it weren’t for you I would have-”

 

But Beetlejuice coughs in a guttural way and shakes his head repeatedly, like he doesn’t even want to hear her say it. So she doesn’t – but it hovers between them anyway.

 

She can’t seem to let go of his hands.

 

”What happened to Vincent and Victoria?” she asks, and he shrugs one shoulder and snorts.

 

”The kids? Oh, got them back home. Told your boy I would have you back – eventually.” he says the last thing very quickly, before getting up from the chair to walk over to the shipwreck. She runs a hand over her face, and is reminded that yes, she is still covered in caked blood.

 

”B? Odd question, but you wouldn’t have a shower around here?”

 

She expects him to laugh at her – or maybe even grimace, spit at the ground. Instead he turns around to grin unnervingly.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t have one of course. Instead he transports them back to her house – or rather specifically, her bathroom.

 

It’s odd to be standing there with him, after all that’s happened. They both look like they’ve been through a war.

 

Lydia wastes no time in drawing up a bath, and is surprised to see him still standing behind her, watching patiently.

 

”You can go.” she says, because why would he stay with her? He got what he wanted, didn’t he? But her voice is quiet and it is not said flippantly.

 

He stares at her for a long time then, and she almost forgets shutting off the water. Finally, he drops his gaze and starts removing his striped coat, and rolls up his sleeves.

 

At her questioning gaze, he just looks at her like she’s dumb.

 

”Get in then.”

 

Still puzzled but yearning to get the blood off, she quickly strips off the robe and gets into the tub. He has seen her naked before, so that’s not really an issue. And as the water slowly turns a pale pink, she sighs – the warm water making her relax.

 

He doesn’t wash her hair (she doubts he knows how) but he runs his fingers delicately across her shoulders, down the line of her arm – little caresses that shouldn't mean anything but makes her heart stutter. They sit like that in silence for a long time – the only sound coming from the dripping faucet. Has he ever been this quiet?

 

Slowly, as if he can’t help himself, he starts weaving his fingers through her wet, black hair.

 

”Why did you do that? Save me?” she asks then, and he pauses.

 

When he doesn't respond, she continues.

 

”You only ever do things when you expect something in return, don’t you? ” The last is said uncertainly, like a kid who suspects that there is indeed, a monster under the bed. She is afraid of what he might say.

 

A hand appears and places something next to her on the porcelain edge. It glimmers faintly in the dim light.

 

”You didn’t sell it...” Lydia murmurs, staring at the ring.

 

There is a sudden, guttural and wholly animal sound coming from behind her, and she turns to look. He has always been this way – a little creepy, more than a little wild and unbalanced. But she has always been able to read him, more or less.

 

And he’s looking at her now like a creature in deep agony. Wide-eyed and tense. More poltergeist than man, but one that won’t do her any harm.

 

She reaches out to him, her wet hand casting droplets of water over his grey skin, and she wonders if he feels it. It surprises her how fast he takes hold of her arm, holds onto it like he never wants to let go.

 

”I’m a good liar Lyds. But other than that, I don’t know what being good means. But lying to you - it wasn’t fun at all. ”

 

Here he paused, and a look of fear passed over his features – so quickly it might not have been there at all.

 

”I hated it.” he said, and his eyes – which had been staring into space, fixed at her. He did not cry, because Beetlejuice is not made of such things, but there was a deep pain, an unrelenting agony to the dark gaze – as well as anger – the earthshattering kind that tears beings apart, flesh by flesh.

 

But Lydia realized that this anger was not aimed at her at all.

 

Her sigh sounded jagged and broken when she tugged him closer, one hand fisted in the shirt at his back. The hug that ensued was fierce and possessive on both sides, water sloshing everywhere and over the edge of the tub, not that either of them cared. And when his shirt became completely soaked, she made him take it off.

 

Not long after that, the rest of his clothes quickly followed suit.

 

* * *

 

Lydia Deetz has a very strange husband.

 

They say he’s a magician, and if called upon to perform a trick, his wife will shoot him warning glances that no one else can decipher. He gets jealous easily, and has a laugh that shatters glass and scares cats, dogs and anyone who stands close enough.

 

He eats bugs and plays mean pranks on anyone who lives within a hundred miles of their home.

 

His wife has never photographed him, claiming that he won’t stay in one place long enough. But at home, there are drawers full of sketches – charcoal lines and smudged eyes that try to capture his essence, but never reach quite the real thing.

 

Their conversations are often loud and angry – followed by laughter, from the both of them.

 

And even though Vincent is still afraid that Beetlejuice will eat him someday for breakfast like a tasty treat, he can live with it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What. The. Fuck. 
> 
> This was a mammoth of a story to write, but I've had the idea in my head for months and I thoroughly enjoyed doing it. Beetlejuice is an asshole with the emotional development of a turnip. Timmy my boy, you're welcome to use this piece of fanfiction as basis for your screenplay, no royalties necessary, just credit me as your poltergeist consultant and we're cool. 
> 
> The music that plays in the nightclub (you probably recognize) is as follows: 
> 
> Tombstone - Suzanne Vegas  
> Young Hunger - Chad Valley


End file.
